Count On Me
by kustom91919
Summary: Leon wakes up after a long night and remembers four females whov've impacted his life the most. Post RE 4, Pre Degeneration. Inspired by the song "Count On Me" by Default. No flames please. R&R.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Leon or any of the Resident Evil characters mentioned here. They all belong to Capcom.**

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Another cold, autumn morning in my little 3rd floor apatment off Main Street, that's what I was conscious of. I'd spent another one of those dead and dreary nights drinking my sorrows away before I fell fast asleep. I sat up and looked around my small living room and realized I'd passed out on the floor with a half-full bottle still propped up in my hand. I remembered how lonely last night had been when a wave of tension hit me as the worst hangover ever.

"Damn," I found myself saying aloud, pressing two fingers to my trobbing temple, "what a dream"

By dream I meant nightmare. I'd had another one about Raccoon City; with me running for my life and me trying to be a hero for the entourage of femlaes I'd felt it was my duty to protect since I was the only "living" man they could count on. Too bad I didn't know any of them anymore.

I got up off my ass and let the bottle fall out of my hand and spill on the carpet. I went into my room and flopped on my back on the bed. I looked up and began seeing scenes from my life playing out on the ceiling. One of them was of the time I'd first met Claire, saving her from that zombie in the diner. Another was of me carrying a little girl named Sherry with saffron hair to a train; and one was of when Ada helped me move that truck so I could get to the holding cells. Finally, I remembered a later memory of me bursting into a sealed room inside a small Spanish church and meeting Ashley for the first time. She reminded of the times I'd tried to be Claire, and Ada, and Sherry's protector, and I'd wanted to add her to my "I gotta keep you safe always" list. I don't know her anymore either.

I put my hand over my face and rubbed my forehead. Those were happier memories, but then I remembered those times that weren't so great. I had visited Claire once after she'd returned from Rockfort Island and had found her srunched up in a corner with her face hidden in her knees. She had been crying perfusely, Chris had told me, ever since they'd gotten back and had refused to stop. Apparently, she'd met some guy and he'd died in her arms, and more apparent still was the fact that she'd been rather fond of him. In my whole life I'd never felt more of a connection with someone than I did then, because I'd lost someone the same way. I'd wanted nothing more than to comfort her, to take that unbearable pain away; but when I had tried to sit down beside her, she turned away from me and continued to sob. Her having done that had made me feel more helpless than I have ever felt in my life; it had been really difficult and heartbreaking to whatch her like that.

Thinking of Claire made me reminence about the time when Claire had left to find her brother right after the Raccoon City incident. I'd been holding onto Sherry's hand as she had tugged and struggled against my grip to chase after her. She'd wanted to let Claire leave just as much as I did because we'd both known that it was important for Claire to be with Chris. But at that last moment, Sherry had suddenly changed her mind, and wanted more than anything to follow her. She would have followed the woman she'd thought was her surrogate mother to the ends of the earth, and it still pains me to this day to see the image of her sobbing, and yanking, and begging Claire not to go. My back had been turned so that I wouldn't have had to look at either one of them. I'd had this overwelming and infuriating feeling in my breast bone, and later the next morning I'd taken Sherry to get some breakfast and I'd even went as far as trying to get the military guys who'd picked us up to let her stay with me. I'd wanted to make her feel better by trying to be her best friend, though we both had known that I could've never have replaced Claire.

I also remember about when Ada had died. That is one of my more depressing memories. It's one that I choose to hardly think about, for it turns out that she hadn't died in the first place. Ada had returned when I'd gone to Spain to find Ashley, and she once again had only done so to retreive a sample of a virus, this time the Las Plagas virus, so she coul take it back to that bastard Wesker. She'd died in my arms in Raccoon City, and it haunted me for 6 years. I remember holding Ada as she was slipping away, my breaking heart headed down with her. She'd hurt me, and I'd felt a sort of sour rage towards her when she had attacked me, because, well, number one: I'd mourned over a women who was still alive, and two: Ada was still the treacherous bitch she'd always been. I don't hate the women; I just wish she'd change her damn ways.

Last but not least, my life movies on the ceiling showed me pictures of one of my recent associattes, Ashley Graham. All the times she had gotten captured or disappeared, she had worried the hell out of my already anxiety-shot nerves. It'd pained me even more when she hadn't listen to me, because I'd felt that she hadn't trust me. She'd turned out to be a very sweet and reliable person like Claire and Sherry, though, and a very determined and helpful partner like Ada and, yes, once again my good friend Claire Redfeild. Ashley may not have liked it, but I did all things I did because I had cared (and still do care) about her and her safety. I think that near the end, she had finally understood that.

I got up off my bed and went rummaging in my closet for some old clothes. I planned to get out my apartment for once and take a stroll around town; maybe catch a movie or just go for a walk through the park and clean out my overcrowded skull, get my facts straight. I found an old, gray T-shirt from college that read Gators in big green letters and a pair of blue jeans and my worn Adidas sneakers. I made sure to grab my jacket from the kichten table along with my house keys and my wallet which bore an Irish flag on top of tough, ebony leather. As I was locking up the door and heading towards the elevator, I had a sudden realization. Just because I didn't know Claire, Sherry, Ada, or Ashley anymore(though I do keep in touch with Ashley and Claire in the case of an emergency) didn't mean I'd stopped thinking about them. Five minutes ago had proved that.

I still care for each and everyone of them and I often wish that, before I breathe my last dying breath, that they each find everything their looking for in their lives and that they live thier own lives to very fullest. I would give every remaining bit of my time, money, and energy to see this happen and that also includes taking the life of Albert Wesker. I had made it a priority of mine to finally see that son of a bitch suffer and pay for every wrong he'd done them, no matter what the cost. I realized that even if they don't succeed in their lifetimes, that these ladies (and little girl even though now she might not be so little any more) will always have one thing in this world even if their lives fall and crumble from under their feet. I smiled from ear to ear as my hangover began to subside and I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to go down. It may be funny for me to think of them this way, but all MY girls(Claire, Ada, Ashley, and of course Sherry) can always, in life or death, count on having one thing: me.


End file.
